Thursday, March 26, 2009

Alright -- I get it!

Every time Buckey and Addie are playing and Buckey starts crying, I immediately say, "Addie, what's wrong?"

Apparently, she's sick of it, because just today they were playing in the living room and Buck started to cry and I asked her, "Addie, what's wrong?"

Addie answered, "I don't know -- I'm not crying!"


Friday, March 20, 2009


In the car:
Addie:  "Mom, can you drive as fast as the law allows?  I gotta poop!"

In the kitchen:
Addie puts some shamrock confetti on the counter and says, "Look, Mom -- Leprechaun poop!"

In the car:
Addie:  "Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a race car driver.  Because then I can drive fast and won't have to pay the law."

Regarding her baby brother:
I had to have a conversation with Addie about being mean to, and hurting, her baby brother.  So, I went into a long explanation about how I cannot allow one of my children to hurt the other.  And how I hate to yell at Addie, but when she hurts Kiefer, I get so angry.  Then, I asked her for suggestions about what to do so that she would remember that hurting Kiefer is not OK.  
She paused and said, "Well, Mom, it is very difficult to handle two kids...that is why you should only have one child."  

Regarding tattoos:
Addie:  "Mommy, I like  your tattoos."
Me:  "Thanks, I like them, too."
Addie:  "When I grow up, I want to get a tattoo."
Me:  "OK."
Addie:  "But, I don't want them to use a needle, I want them to use a brush."

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Drink Till You're Irish!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone! Drink till you're Irish!!! (That's just a wee joke. I am in no way implying that all Irish are lushes, but as someone who proudly carries some Irish blood, we typically don't shy away from the drink...and if the shoe fits...)

Anyway, this joke is also a Scottish one; as Scots, too, know a fine single-malt when they taste one!

Mac and Paddy were fishing off the coast one fine morning. Alas, they strayed far out to sea and soon became lost.

They floated for days, hoping for rescue, but just as soon as things seemed grim, Mac fished a bottle out of the water.

He took it off his hook and wiped it clean and as he was doing so, a genie popped out and said, "Thank you, Master, your wish is my command. I will give you anything you want."

Mac didn't even hesitate, "I wish the sea were made of fine whisky," he blurted.

Paddy looked aghast!

"For God's sake, Man," he cried, "why on earth would you wish such a thing? Now, we'll have to piss in the boat!"

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

March Fucking 10th...

So, of the three people who read this blog, probably only one of them knows that today is my brother's birthday.  Or was my brother's birthday.  Or should be my brother's birthday.  I don't fucking know.  All I know is that my brother's dead and if he weren't, today he'd be 22.

So, instead of taking him to the Angus for a shot this weekend, or going to a strip club (oh, yes I would have!), or even calling him up just to say, "Hey..." I'm writing this stupid blog.  And if you haven't noticed, I'm still furious at him.  

But, he did visit me in my dreams on Wednesday night (March 4th -- interestingly enough, our cousin's birthday).  It was the first time since, I think, last January 21st.  Anyway, in the dream we were sitting on the front porch swing of the house we used to live in (outside Clarkstown).  In the dream I was my age and Joel was the age I remember him.  We were kind of leaning against each other, swinging back and forth and I was telling Joel what happened to him.  He didn't know and I was telling him and sobbing and he didn't want to hear it, but he listened to the whole sordid story.  He said he didn't remember any of it, and he just kept shaking his head in disbelief.  He felt really bad.  

The next scene, we were walking down the hallway of an old farmhouse I didn't recognize.  There were lots of doors on either side of us, but we kept walking to the one at the end.  I was in front and he was right behind me. 

The next scene was Dad, Joel and me putting siding up on the barn.  Joel and I were each holding and end of a pine board and Dad was using a nail gun.  Then Dad started screwing around with the nail gun, swinging it towards us and acting crazy.  I screamed at him what the fuck did he think he was doing?, was he crazy?, didn't he know he could shoot a nail through someone's head and it would kill them?  Jee, I wonder what that part of the dream meant?  (duh...) 

For the last week or so I've been thinking about Joel more than usual (birthday week and all).  And even though I haven't talked more than usual about him, or played his music, or looked at videos, somehow Addie must be getting a vibe, because for the last week or so she's been asking about him and talking about him.  

Here's the latest conversation:
Addie:  Is Uncle Joel dead?
Me:  Yep.  Uncle Joel is dead.
Addie:  How did he die?
Me:  Well, he hurt himself.
Addie:  How?
Me:  He hurt himself really badly.
Addie:  I know, but how?
Me:  [pause...think, think, think...]
Addie:  Well?  How?
Me:  [pause]  Well, honey, actually he shot himself.
Addie:  With a gun?!
Me:  Yes.
Addie:  [Exasperated]  Why would he do that?!?!
Me:  That's a good question, honey.  We don't really know.

He'd be graduating college this year.  I was sure he'd be a crime writer, or an FBI profiler.  He wasn't sure, though he knew writing would be something he'd always do in some form or another.  

He'd be teaching Kiefer to wrestle and he'd be showing Addie how to hold a guitar.  He'd be laughing with me about some damn thing or another.  He'd be talking to Chris about some kind of psycho babble.  He'd be drinking a beer with us at Loralie's birthday.  We'd all pick on Gram.  He'd tap my arm and shake his head.  He'd give me the finger shake.  He'd laugh and bend all the way over and put his hands on his knees.  

He should be and he would be.  But he isn't and he won't.  

Joel, I miss you always and love you to the end.   

Credits:  From "Bird's the Word" Collaboration kit: papers by arti-bytes and Creative Confusion (both altered). High Tower Text and Tempus Sans fonts. Adobe PSCS. 

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

My Mom, by Addie

An Interview with my Daughter:

1. What is something mom always says to you?
"Be gentle with Buckey."

2. What makes mom happy?
"When I love you."

3. What makes mom sad?
"When I push Buckey."

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
"You make silly faces and tickle me."

5. What was your mom like as a child?
"You were playful."

6. How old is your mom?

7. How tall is your mom?
"40 feet tall. Let me get something." [Looking for the measuring tape.] "Let's see how tall you are with this measuring tape -- Wow! One half and a feet tall!"

8. What is her favorite thing to do?

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
"Go to the grocery store."

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
"Um, she loves you..."

11. What is your mom really good at?
"Loving me."

12. What is your mom not very good at?

13. What does your mom do for her job?
"Taking care of us."

14. What is your mom's favorite food?
"Neato Burrito."

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
"Because you love me."

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
"Snow White."

17. What do you and your mom do together?

18. How are you and your mom the same?
"We both have the same colory skin."

19. How are you and your mom different?
"We both have different hairs."

20. How do you know when your Mom is mad?
"Because you're angry."

21. How do you know your mom loves you?
"You are happy."

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
"Um, to the park."